


Just His Luck

by eeyore9990



Series: December Gift Fic Spree [11]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Asshole Jackson, Asshole Stiles Stilinski, Daddy Kink, Embarrassment, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Second-Hand Embarrassment, Trapped In A Closet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-12
Updated: 2014-12-12
Packaged: 2018-03-01 03:09:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2757314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eeyore9990/pseuds/eeyore9990
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The good news: A witch transports Jackson back to Beacon Hills in time for Christmas, saving him a few grand on airplane fees.  The bad news: She wants his blood to summon Cthulhu.  Also, he’s trapped in a closet with Stiles Stilinski.  He’s not sure if that counts as good news or bad news, really.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just His Luck

**Author's Note:**

> December Fic Spree, Day 11: Gift for Halesburned.
> 
> Happy December 11th!

For all the outward trappings of wealth, Jackson’s luck has never been good. Every blessing has been preceded by a curse. So yes, he was adopted by a wealthy couple who showered him with monetary tokens of love and adoration, but that was only possible because his parents died in a car accident on the way to the hospital where his mother was going to give birth. Yes, he was given the bite to become an amazingly strong and fast supernatural creature, but… well. Kanima.

Here he is now, magically transported back to Beacon Hills just in time for the holidays, but only because a witch wants to use his blood to summon Cthulhu. _And_ he’s stuck in a very small closet with Stiles fucking Stilinski, which might be the biggest curse of all. 

The idiot keeps muttering counter-incantations under his breath, but since he’s human, Jackson has to tell him what the witch is saying. And _every single time_ , Stiles’ voice fills with skepticism when he asks Jackson if he’s “sure that’s what she said?” Jackson’s ready to bite him on the long stretch of his neck just to silence him.

Yes. Just to silence him. It has nothing whatsoever to do with the fact that Stiles has changed, a lot, since the last time Jackson saw him. He’s got this certainty about him now. There’s no more of that spastic flailing that Jackson remembers detesting. And physically, he’s…. Taller than Jackson, with impossibly wide shoulders that taper to a narrow waist. He smells… like home. He smells like something Jackson could want.

Trying to stifle his senses, Jackson leans forward and whispers the words to the witch’s latest incantation. When Stiles inevitably starts to say, “Are you sure?” Jackson cuts him off with a snarled, “Yes, I’m fucking sure!”

"Aww, Jacky, you know you missed me," Stiles murmurs, and for some reason leans back against Jackson, who has to wrap one arm around Stiles’ waist and push back against him to keep from jostling the shelf of tools that would make a god awful racket if they fell to the concrete floor.

"God, just shut the fuck up for a minute and do your thing."

"Yes, _Daddy_ ,” Stiles says in his most sarcastic tone, which…

 _Fuck_. 

Jackson was privileged to have been born in an era where the internet doesn’t just exist, but it exists at such speeds that entire movies can be downloaded in seconds and watched from the comfort of one’s bed. And the sorts of movies Jackson likes to download are the sorts of movies boys have been sneaking into their bedrooms to watch under the safety of their blankets for hundreds of years… or they would have, were it possible. 

_Porn._ Jackson watches porn. On the internet. Because it’s readily available, and when he grows bored of watching ‘regular’ porn, he can dig through the recesses of the internet to find porn that works for him in the moment. It is just his unfortunate luck that his last few ‘moments,’ the sort of porn he had taken an interest in was daddy kink. 

So as he stands there, body flush with Stiles’, feeling the bottom curve of Stiles’ ass pressed against his groin, he hears the word _Daddy_ whispered into the dark and he… has a reaction. A reaction that doesn’t go unnoticed by the boy he’s still got one arm wrapped around, because, well, this is Jackson’s life. 

Stiles goes stock still, voice breaking off from where he’d been chanting some sort of Latin-sounding phrase. He rushes through the rest, then hisses, “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Jackson just drops his forehead against Stiles’ back, pounding it gently there a few times before he’s able to pull himself together enough to growl, “Just shut up.”

"Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? What the hell, what even prompted… this?" And as he says _this_ , Stiles grinds his ass back against Jackson’s dick, which really does not help the situation. “We’ve been in here for over thirty minutes and we haven’t even… Oh my god. _Oh my fucking god._ You. You have a _daddy kink._ ”

"Shut up! It’s not a… I don’t…" But Jackson knows, he knows as soon as the denial is out of his mouth what Stiles is going to do. Because no matter how much Stiles may have changed physically, he’s still a fucking _asshole_ who lives and breathes just to annoy Jackson.

"Daddy," Stiles moans softly, going a little boneless and sagging into Jackson’s grip on his waist.

And of course, because it’s an idiot that doesn’t know any better, Jackson’s dick gives a little twitch against Stiles’ ass. 

The only thing that saves Jackson from having to hear Stiles crow long and loud about this is the fact that there’s still a witch out there after his blood, he’s sure. Speaking of which — or witch, hah — Jackson strains his senses, trying to figure out why he hasn’t heard anything else from her since Stiles’ last counter-spell. 

Instead, he picks up something else. A change in Stiles’ heartbeat. A subtle shift in his scent. Apparently, as much as this is doing for Jackson’s libido, it’s working for Stiles, too. Arousal, not his own, winds through the air, teases his nostrils, and makes the entire situation a thousand times worse. Because now his body, his _instincts_ know that there’s a possibility the arousal _he’s_ been feeling is returned.

Hitching his hips against Stiles’, Jackson leans forward to whisper, “I’m not the only one with a little kink, am I, Stilinski?”

Stiles goes stiff before relaxing again, his hips moving in a tiny, hesitant little circling motion that makes Jackson hiss through his teeth. “Apparently not, _Daddy._ ”

"Fuck! Stop saying that or I’m gonna—"

"What? What are you going to do to me, Daddy? Am I being a bad boy? Do you want to spank me?"

And okay, yes. Jackson would fucking _love_ to see Stiles’ ass burning red, but mostly he just wants to pin him to the door and fuck him through it, witch or no witch. He drops his hand from Stiles’ waist to cup his palm around Stiles’ hard dick and whispers just that, satisfaction roaring through him when Stiles’ dick hardens further and the first hint of come thickens the air with its sharp scent.

"So why don’t you do it, then?" Stiles shifts his hips up and down, creating a delicious friction against Jackson’s trapped dick. "Daddy."

Muffling a curse into Stiles’ shoulder, Jackson smoothly opens Stiles’ pants, taking care not to let his sturdy belt buckle clank against anything and give them away. He does, however, drag his fingers over the thick leather and whisper about how he has plans for that accessory later, grinning when Stiles shudders against him. Then he’s pushing Stiles’ pants and underwear down to his thighs, fingers slicking over Stiles’ cock until Stiles has to stifle a moan into his forearm.

"Shh, baby boy," Jackson whispers, and he knows Stiles can hear the smirk in his tone. He’s got his own pants undone now, but when he pushes forward between the cheeks of Stiles’ ass, Stiles goes stiff before pulling away. 

"Jesus Christ, dude, you can’t just shove in."

"Oh my god, you idiot, I’m not gonna… I’m not fucking you, Stilinski. I’m just…" Jackson decides actions speak louder than barely there words and slides his dick between Stiles’ ass cheeks and his inner thighs until his head nestles up against the underside of Stiles’ balls. He gives a very deliberate stroke to Stiles’ cock at the same time, and feels Stiles relax again, moving into the motions.

"Yeah, Daddy. Do it," Stiles whispers, getting back in the game. 

With Stiles moving counterpoint, and whispering filthy little phrases that each contain some version of the word ‘Daddy,’ Jackson’s dick is leaking enough precome to smooth the way in no time. He returns the favor, of course, telling Stiles what a dirty little boy he is, how only good little boys get to come, and basically just repeats every line he’s ever heard from all the porn he’s been mainlining since he first discovered his appreciation for the kink.

But in this as in everything they’ve ever done, it becomes a competition. Stiles’ thighs are shaking from how he’s holding back, obviously waiting for Jackson to come. And Jackson’s grip keeps slipping with every word out of Stiles’ mouth. He can feel his balls drawing up, trying to come, but he keeps pushing his orgasm back, wanting to push Stiles over the edge first.

Because he wants to lord it over the little shit for the rest of their lives, not because he’s a generous lover. 

So of course, being the assholes they are, they’re still goading one another, breathlessly holding back their own orgasms, when the door goes flying open, the entire pack standing on the other side of it, obviously there to rescue them.

And with their attention distracted so thoroughly, both of them lose it within seconds of each other, Stiles coming so hard it hits Scott square in the chest, to Scott’s drop-jawed horror. Scott lets out a little scream and slams the door back, and there’s a horrified silence from each of them before Stiles starts shaking uncontrollably in Jackson’s grasp, laughing so hard he’s _silent_ with it.

Jackson drops his forehead to Stiles’ back again, wondering if, should he ask very nicely, the witch will send him straight back to London so he never has to think of this again. 

But then Stiles shimmies against him, and whispers, “Thanks, Daddy.”

And Jackson thinks, maybe, he can do this. Especially if it means he gets to use that belt.


End file.
